


Critical Failure

by cliniclyInsane189



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Gen, Restraints, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliniclyInsane189/pseuds/cliniclyInsane189
Summary: Every Nonary Game has its own resident murderer who does their best to pick off the rest of the players.In one timeline, Epsilon finds themself alone in the Torture Room with theirs.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947934
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Critical Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober 2020 Day 5 - **“Where do you think you’re going?”** \- On the run | **Failed escape** | Rescue  
> Featuring a bad end of the game we followed in day 2, and including such things as teeth pulling, an axe and a mallet.

Epsilon had been on edge since the moment they’d entered the Torture Room.

Actually... That wasn’t quite right - they’d been on edge ever since they’d stepped through door number two with no-one but Octavius for company.

They’d dismissed it at the time as just paranoia but, well… Hindsight, etc, etc. And, really, in a situation like this, paranoia was arguably a sensible response.

They took a few steps towards the stairs, intending to head up onto the walkway to get a better look at the room and to put some distance between themselves and Octavius.

“Where _do_ you think you’re going?” A light, almost cheerful, voice asked them.

_‘Shit, I turned my back_ -’, they thought, spinning on their heel as dread shot through their veins like ice.  
They were just quick enough to see the wrench as it swung towards their face.

* * *

Epsilon woke slowly, head throbbing and the taste of iron thick in their mouth. They knew _exactly_ where they were before they even opened their eyes.

The chair.

They shifted, involuntarily flexing their hands.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

A hand grasped their chin firmly and tilted their face up.

They opened their eyes, then immediately closed them as the sudden increase in light drove a spike of pain through their head. They ground their teeth together harshly, biting down on the whine that fought to escape.

The hand moved away, and they tried again, slower this time, and with more dazed blinking.

“You don’t look surprised,” Octavius said, conversationally, as if he wasn’t holding a small, rusting axe in one hand and an equally rusty pair of pliers in the other. “Tell me, how long have you known?”

Epsilon took a deep breath, considering their response _very_ carefully.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” they said, eyeing the tools with no small amount of apprehension.

“Don’t I?” The old man mused, setting the axe back down on the tray. “That’s a complicated answer for a straightforward question.”

“That’s usually how it is,” Epsilon agreed, attempting to press themself back into the chair as Octavius advanced. “Uh - for sure, not until we got to this room, started to strongly suspect after we went through the second set of numbered doors,” they blurted, panic starting to set in properly.

“Hmm,” Octavius said, tapping the pliers thoughtfully against his palm. “You know, I trained to be a dentist.”

Epsilon felt like their stomach had just plummeted into the sea below them.

“Oh, really?” They asked, voice slightly too high to be natural.

“Yes, yes. Now, I’ve already completed the task to free us from this room - well. To free _me_ from this room. I’m sure you’ve realised by now that you won’t be leaving that chair alive.”

“The possibility had entered my mind, yes,” Epsilon said, keeping their gaze firmly on the opposite wall.

“Ah, well, we don’t have as much time as I would like, so I suppose I’ll have to be selective - I hate to leave a job half done, but half done well is better than fully done sloppily, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think that’s contextual,” Epsilon got out, before Octavius’ hand clamped onto their jaw again, this time forcing their mouth open.

They tried, unsuccessfully, to bite him.

“Now, now, none of that,” Octavius said, as if chiding a small child. “This will go much quicker if you don’t move.”

He shoved the pliers into their mouth, the heavy metal weight of them clacking against their teeth and the rust scraping at their tongue and gums.

“Usually I try to get them all, but, since we don’t have much time, I think I’ll just take one of each,” Octavius said, thoughtfully. “How does that sound?”

“Oh Jesus,” Epsilon tried to say, but it just came out a garbled mess.

“We’ll start at the back,” Octavius told them. 

He shifted the pliers around, leaning in so he could see better, the movement ensuring that his head was pretty much all Epsilon could see. 

They felt a gentle tug at one of their molars, then seconds later a sharp agony shooting through their mouth and jaw.

They gave a garbled curse, kicking instinctively. As their legs were restrained, this simply resulted in them cracking their shin bone. Blood flooded their mouth.

Octavius took a step back, letting go of Epsilons’ jaw, and held up a shiny white tooth, blood and tissue still clinging to the roots, clamped tightly in the pliers. 

He smiled.

Then he cleaned off the tooth with a handkerchief and slipped it into an inner pocket of his jacket.

Epsilon let their head drop forward, blood falling freely from their slightly open mouth.

“Now then,” Octavius said, tipping their chin up with the pliers to force them to look at him. “That’s one. Just three more to go.”

Epsilon managed a look that was between a glare and an eye-roll before the pliers were back in their mouth, this time for a pre-molar.

To their credit, they managed not to scream until the last one - one of their front incisors. At that point, their vision went grey for a blissful moment. 

When their head stopped spinning and their vision cleared, they were staring down at their blood and spit spattered t-shirt and jeans, the sound of Octavius examining the tray of tools an almost relaxing background noise.

They blinked hard and looked over at him.

He was holding the axe.

“I do hate to rush,” he said, and Epsilons’ pulse spiked. “But we are rather pressed for time here, so this will be quick.”

Octavius smiled, and, for the first time, his sadism displayed itself in his expression.

“Quick, but _very_ painful.”

“Oh, ‘f f’ckin’ course,” Epsilon slurred.

Octavius’ smile widened.

The first blow struck Epsilon in their shoulder, forcing its way in in the way that only _almost_ blunt blades did. The second hit them in the arm, the third the same again but closer to their elbow.

By the sixth, a surprisingly deep slash to the stomach, tears were flowing freely from their eyes and their breathing was growing more and more erratic, hitching and stuttering despite their best efforts.

After the seventh, Octavius stepped back and picked up the mallet.

Epsilon let out a wheezing half-laugh.

“Is something funny?” Octavius asked, that maddening veneer of politeness still in place despite everything.

Epsilon nodded, a manic and delirious grin spreading across their face.

Because now they _knew._

“You really think y’r going to get out of this alive,” they said.

“ _What_ are you talking about?”

Epsilon just shook their head and laughed, prompting Octavius to bring the mallet down hard on their hand. Their laugh turned into a harsh scream, which in turn trailed away into high, wheezing breaths.

“There’s only one time that you even make it to the lifeboat,” they gasped, blood still dripping from their mouth. “You think I’m the only one who suspected you? This time isn’t yours _Cyril_.”

The mallet smashed into their kneecap.

They screamed again.

Then their other hand.

Again.

Their other knee. Their already injured shoulder. Their previously undamaged shoulder. Their hands again. Their chest.

Again and again and again and...

By the time he finally threw the hammer to the floor, Epsilons’ head was spinning. Everything was far too distant - they could barely feel anything, even the veil of agony settled over every centimetre of their body.

There was the sound of footsteps, the clink of metal on metal, more footsteps.

A hand wound its way into their hair and yanked their head back. They stared blearily up at Octavius’ scowling face.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to question you properly - but either way, your threats mean _nothing_ to me. Look at yourself. What could _you_ possibly do to _me_?”

Epsilon gave a lopsided grin, vision swimming in and out of focus.

The last thing they felt was the rusted blade of the axe tearing at their throat and warmth spreading across their chest and down into their lungs.

It was a relief to finally let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Zero Escape, and this here AU especially, are such good playgrounds for writing whump in, so expect more in this fandom on later days! :)


End file.
